


Marichat Week I

by chinarai



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Marichat, Marichat Week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-08
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-25 12:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6195883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chinarai/pseuds/chinarai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He is Chat Noir, a hero and a public figure, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng is just a civilian.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i: secret dating

**Author's Note:**

> So, here we are. I finally got sucked into this fandom and found out a bit too late about Marichat week so I'm coming in fifteen minutes late with drabbles and whatnot. I don't know what I'm doing, these two are consuming my life. 
> 
> And here I thought I'd get the chance to post another fanfic first, but I think this one will help me get comfortable with the Miraculous Ladybug universe. I'd be lying if I said I didn't start learning French online because of this show, go me.
> 
> I have no idea how to write the love square, to be honest, but I hope this is enough?

* * *

**i: secret dating**

* * *

People rush about her on the square, heading home after a long day or a night out, yet Marinette keeps her position on the top step of the stairs, sitting among the pacing feet and the mingled conversation as if everything around her is calm and there is only pure silence. She examines the city lights, the moon and the few stars that can be seen; she looks down at her shoes and picks at the ends of her midnight blue dress that matches the sky. Her hands touch the tip of her braid and she considers once again if she should let it fall loose or tie it up in a bun, or its usual pigtails, or something else entirely while she waits.

She waits and her parents think she is at home sleeping or pulling an all-nighter. Tikki busies herself inside her purse with today’s batch of caramel cookies, and while Marinette has nothing to keep her mind occupied as she sits in place like a statue, she finds that watching the civilians retire to their homes is quite entertaining. There are lovers and executives and all kind of people that pass by the Eiffel Tower each day and often forget to admire its beauty, its uniqueness. Then she stands when her watch reads its well past eleven, brushes the dust from her outfit and heads down the stairs, fingers racking through her hair as she finally decides to let it loose.

It blows back when wind howls in her ears and she hugs her cardigan tighter around her body, walking a few blocks from the tower until she finds the designed place. A dead end street that by day has nothing really eye catching to it – it is just a dead end street after all – but on certain nights, it becomes the best place in all of Paris. There is a towel on the floor, two velvety cushions, one lonely lit candle and a basket sitting before his waiting form. He has told her he can take her to better places, but she is happy with this as it is.

He sees well, so well in the dark, that she is not surprised when his lips twist into a frown when she shivers in themed autumn air, his arms open invitingly, and her feet hurry their pace against her own wishes as she strides towards him. Marinette snuggles by his side, nose brushing his neck lightly and taking in the scent of leather and a perfume he makes sure to wear in the nights when he meets with her. His arm falls over her shoulders, pulling her close as he presses a kiss to the crown of her head, and their usual teasing banter is forgotten tonight as they talk in whispers and hushed giggles, fingers twined together as they get lost in each other’s warmth.

His green eyes glint in the candlelight as he moves to open the basket, taking out two very expensive looking wine glasses and a bottle of grape juice for they both do not drink. She laughs aloud when he starts pouring the crimson liquid and cracks a joke about it. He takes out a plate of sloppy sandwiches next, made with a baguette that she knows all too well.

“I really wish I knew how to cook,” she silences his laments with a kiss, because whether it is the most expensive and fancy dish or just bread with butter, it does not matter to her.

“It’s the effort that you put into it that counts,” her reply is sincere and her smile is gentle. Chat Noir blinks his bright eyes at her and cups her face, pulling her in for a kiss that would drive both of them breathless in a matter of seconds.

They sit on the cushions close to each other and enjoy his homemade meal as he vows that next time he will make her something better. Her thumb brushes soothing circles on the back of his hand and she says that she is not such a great cook, despite having a family that owns a bakery and an uncle that is a super chef. Marinette sits between his legs, her back to his chest as he tries to place pieces of chocolate in her mouth, but all he does is poke it against her nose and cheeks and she has to wonder if her does that on purpose.

And her suspicions are proven to be true when the hero tilts her head back to kiss all the dirty places, his tongue sweeping out to lick the corner of her lips, and Marinette helps him by moving on her own, capturing his mouth and letting him taste all the chocolate he just fed her. Her head is spinning when they pull away and he glances up at the sky, seeing that dark clouds rolled by while they were lost in their own world and that droplets of water started falling.

“Seems like we need to leave, Princess.” His tone is rueful, and she brushes back his wild hair to kiss his forehead before they rush to pack everything inside the basket once again.

Her late night outs are never the same anymore now that she has fallen for the one person she thought she would never harbor romantic feelings for. Sometimes she considers telling him the truth; after all, she has to transform into her heroic self to leave her home unnoticed and it is so hard to not stand too close when they are both on patrol, but when he is carrying her on his back and the wind makes her face so cold that she has to bury it in his neck, Marinette cannot find it in her the courage to part her lips and say it.

How did she get caught up in all of this, she wonders dazedly when they land on the balcony of her house. Chat is grinning when he plucks a flower from one of her vases and places it behind her ear; she responds by turning her head to kiss his gloved palm, her thumb pressed against his pulse on his wrist, mind racing and trying to summon any ounce of strength possible to say it. Just say it.

He beats her to it. “Happy birthday, my Princess,” and presents her with a necklace resting on his other palm.

She looks at it. It is silver and the pendant is the face of a cat. It is simple and beautiful and makes her heart flutter when he clasps it around her neck and the pendant rests in the hollow of her collarbone. The rain falls on their faces and for some reason she feels a sting in her eyes as she presses her lips together to keep from laughing, and he looks at her expectantly, green eyes ever so bright.

“You are insufferable!” Marinette exclaims, her body crashing into his and mouth seeking for his. His hand rests on the back of her neck and her palms are flat on his chest, inching up to grip his shoulders. He pulls away first, gently bushes his lips on her jawline and bids her goodnight with a promise that he will come by again and soon.

She stands in her balcony, flower in her hair and clothes soaked to the bone, watching as he disappears into the darkness of the night. She is cold once again, her mind finally registering the way she is shivering under the falling rain, and her fingers play with the pendant that no one will ever know who truly gave it to her, because he is Chat Noir, a hero and a public figure, and Marinette Dupain-Cheng is just a civilian.


	2. ii: cat costume

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All chapters are tied together unless told otherwise. Thank you all for reading!
> 
> Now on to day two! What did I even try to do here

* * *

**ii: cat costume**

* * *

When Chat Noir first enters her room through the trapdoor that week, he hears groaning, mumbling and curses coming from the lower level. He stretches in her bed and grunts when his bones pop in place, and all sounds coming from bellow cease in the exact same instant.

He peeks down to find Marinette holding a pair of scissors in her hand, looking up at him with an angry frown on her face. “What are you doing here in broad day light!?” Her voice is agitated and she stalks back to her work desk as he saunters down the steps to meet with her.

“Why, I could not wait until night.” He sits on her swivel chair by the computer and spins it all the way over to where she is working on another one of her creations. “Are you not happy to see me?”

She has a pencil between her teeth as her fingers work to stitch a piece of black fabric in her hands, eyebrows pinched together in concentration. “Well,” he offers to take the pencil from her mouth and uses it to draw random lines on a blank paper that is nearby. “I actually have some mixed feelings about seeing you right now.”

“I’ll have to ask you to elaborate, Princess,” he says with a purr and scoots closer to her to rub his nose on her cheek and temple.

“I forgot there is this party I have tonight.”

“And?”

“I’m not finished with the costume yet.”

He hums and swivels away to give her space and time to work on her outfit. There are plenty of things to do in her bedroom and he decides to do one of his favorite: play video games. Chat turns the computer on and snickers at her wallpaper of choice; every time he has a chance to see it, he teases her about it, but this time he is going to ignore it because she is busy. But just this time. Actually, he has teased her about everything around her room. From the many pictures of the blonde teen – himself, but shh, it is a secret – to every little thing that is not even remotely embarrassing. He joked once about a pair of panties lying forgotten in the corner of her room and the innumerous blows of the pillow that she hit him with were absolutely worth it.

Chat plays to his heart content, the time ticking away and every few minutes Marinette yelps when she accidentally prickles herself with the needle. When he gets bored, he decides to look through her many old sketchbooks neatly piled on the corner of her desk. He has seen half of them by now and enjoys pointing out which one of her doodles he likes the most. When Chat moves to another pile of books because he feels like reading, the girl lets out a sigh of relief and he rushes to her side to see what her talented hands had just done.

Before he can comment on anything, he kisses each one of her fingertips – so they will heal faster, like he once told her – and looks at the two pieces of clothing that are folded by her sewing supplies. “What are they, exactly?” He raises a brow at the red fabric with black spots all over it.

Marinette slumps back on her chair and closes her eyes when he brushes her fringe away from her eyes. “There’s this party tonight and I have to take Manon.”

He remembers this name, Manon, the little girl that she sometimes has to babysit. “A dress up party?”

She nods in agreement, “And she wants to go as Ladybug.”

“And you’ll go as Chat Noir?” Both his eyebrows shoot up this time. “You’ll be me?” Marinette rolls her eyes good-naturedly, but confirms it anyways. “Now that’s something I want to see.” She shoves him away with a hand and a grumble, and they move to spend the rest of their time together lying in bed.

Evening approaches faster than she had anticipated and the next thing she knows Manon and her mom are at her doorstep. She helps Manon dress into her outfit, not as skintight as it should be and made of cotton so she will be comfortable whilst running around. The little girl brought along her own yoyo that she painted red and black to match her costume, and the instant she puts on her mask she flies downstairs so her mother can see her. Marinette smiles and closes the door so she can change into her own costume that looks just like the original sans the material. She has seen Chat Noir from up close far too many times to not know all the details by heart by now, and she does not know if she should feel proud or embarrassed by it.

What otherwise would have been a problematic night out resulted in being fun when she met with Alya and her younger siblings at the party. There are many parents and babysitters around, and the kids soon disappear among the others to play all the games they could in the spam of a few hours. Alya is dressed in her favorite comic book superheroine costume, made by Marinette herself of course, and they spend their time together hanging by the windows, just talking and eating, and taking pictures, because the night is never complete for her best friend if they do not take at least two selfies.

It is when Alya slips away to the bathroom with one of her younger sisters that Marinette is approached by someone else. “Nice costume you’ve got there.” She is about to reply when she turns to face the newcomer and her mouth hangs open at the person before her. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

With all the screaming of the kids and chattering of the older ones, she hardly recognized his voice. “Chat Noir.” It takes her little time to recover from her surprise and scowl at him. “You stupid cat! What are you doing here!?”

“Why are you never happy to see me?” He asks with a dramatic whine in his tone, but her face prompts him to answer as seriously as Chat Noir can. “I just wanted to see my Princess, of course.”

“What if someone recognizes you?”

“Relax, it’s a costume party.” His grin tempts her to wipe it off, first with a fist then with her lips. “Besides, I’m paw-sitive your costume is more accurate than mine.”

When her lips part to tell him to shut it, they are approached by a bunch of little kids and the ones looking after them. Most of the children are dressed up as Ladybug and Chat Noir, she realizes for the first time that night, and Manon is among them. “Your costumes are great!” One of the babysitters waves a camera in the air. “Can we take pictures?”

Marinette is lost at first, so Chat steps in. “Sure!” Then he adds in a lower tone so she is the only one to hear, “Remember to be in character.”

The first kids walk up to them as he starts flexing his muscles and strikes random poses; she settles for crouching to be in the same level as them or tries to hold two of them in her arms at the same time. Alya returns and wastes no time to record the entire show as both Marinette and a random guy dressed as Chat Noir start taking pictures with the kids as if they are professionals, and sends the video to Nino and Adrien so they can see what they are missing.

Once all of the kids had their turns and her friend has to take her siblings along with Manon to get some juice, Marinette turns to Chat as she is rubbing her sore arms. “I didn’t think it’d go like this.”

“Neither did me, Princess.” He moves the curtain away so he can open the window, cool air rushing into the crowded room. “And no one found out.”

“I guess so,” she steps closer when he is halfway out and he lets the curtain fall closed to hide them from view. “It was... fun.”

His smile is soft. “It was,” he leans in and kisses her lips gently, fingers lost in her dark hair. “We should do this again sometime.”

“We should,” she murmurs against his mouth and presses hers to his quickly when she hears her name being called.

“I’ll see you later,” Chat holds her hand and places a kiss on her knuckles, then jumps off the windowsill and jogs away, ducking behind a bush to get out of sight.

Marinette closes the window and moves the curtains so she can step out from behind them, only to run into the curious eyes of her friend. “Where is your new friend?”

“I don’t know.” She manages to say through the lump in her throat, “He left shortly after you did.”


	3. iii: sin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't go full sin on this. Is this sinful enough? You tell me
> 
> Also, I've gotten so many emails because of this fanfic that I'm surprised my phone hasn't given up. Still as loyal as if brand new, I see. So! Forgive me if I don't reply to any comments, it's through the emails I get that I see them!

* * *

**iii: sin**

* * *

It did not take them too long to leave, Manon’s mom appeared a minute after Alya’s dad and she drove Marinette home. Her parents are washing the dishes from dinner when she arrives, and they compliment her costume and then shower her with a new pastry they want to sell in their bakery. It is delicious, creamy and has a nice vanilla touch. Marinette sneaks some into her bedroom and Tikki flies out the pocket of her dark outfit, accepting the baked good gracefully and then heads over to the desk to eat it.

Marinette decides to write on her diary then before showering and changing for the night. Her Kwami helps her remember all details of her day and they spend a great deal of time talking about how Chat Noir, the real Chat Noir, appeared at the party and no one else knew but them. She swears she will punch that cat once he sets foot in her bedroom and send him flying through the wall. Even if it was fun to spend some time with him, what he had done was too dangerous, and Marinette does not feel furious, but she does want to punch him, both for his antics and the amount of cat puns he cracked in the few minutes they spent together.

Tikki laughs at the face she makes and the teen sighs in annoyance, telling her friend that she can go to bed because now she is far too agitated to sleep right away. And so the red little thing flutters to the divan and makes herself comfortable on one fluffy pillow, almost immediately falling asleep. Marinette stays awake glaring holes at the desktop of her computer and kicks off her shoes, still unsure of what to do. She grabs the first book her hand can find and heads to the loft where her bed is, coming to the decision that reading will soothe her nerves.

She does not get the chance to crawl towards her pillows for she is hauled in their direction and a body pins her down to her mattress, its warmth familiar. “Hey, Princess.” She hears the oh so familiar voice through the heartbeat in her ears and she registers the glinting pair of green eyes staring at her from above. Her mouth opens, air rushing into her lungs, but his hand covers the lower half of her face until she calms down and when she does, he smirks at her. “Did I mention that you look absolutely beautiful in this costume?”

“Chat.” She says in a warning tone and he rolls his eyes at her, shifting until he is on his knees and she can sit up. “What are you doing here?”

Her voice is a hiss and he places a hand on his chest in mock-hurt. “This is the third time today you ask me this, Princess.”

“Now, of all moments, I have the right to ask this.”

Chat waves her off with a dismissive motion of his clawed hand. “Paw-lease, Princess, I just wanted to spend some mew-ments with you like this.” She makes a face when he sweeps his palm at her and her eyebrows rise when she remembers that he mentions, at any given opportunity, that he would like to see her dressed in an outfit like his.

Marinette never understood why, though, but she can certainly feel her body warming up when the look in his eyes turns too passionate to bear. He had seen her dressed like this earlier this evening, alright, but he did not look at her like _this._ Her pulse is wild at the base of her throat, thumping erratically just above the fake bell she wears around her neck. She says nothing, but she does want to break the sudden new wave of tension that fills the room like a shroud, yet words fail her and die on the tip of her tongue when she finds herself too captivated by his glowing gaze.

And then his hands are on her, on her waist, and she naturally lies back down and he settles himself between her parted legs, his chin resting on her sternum. “Did I mention that you look absolutely beautiful in this costume?” He repeats and his voice is... Sensual. She fights to get some air into her lungs.

“You did.”

“Do you believe it?”

“I don’t.”

“Well, Princess,” his grip tightens around her and she swallows past the knot of anticipation in her throat. “You should. You know I never lie.”

_‘Had he fantasized about her in a Chat Noir costume before?’_ is the last thought that runs through her mind before it goes completely blank.

She stands still and holds her breath when he cranes his neck up to kiss her chin and nip at the exposed skin of her neck. Her outfit makes her feel too warm, it is too hot in her bedroom, and winter is just around the corner. It is not the room, she realizes when he moves up, his chest moving against hers, it is her body, it is him; it is both of them that are burning and she does not know what to do with this new sensation. Sure, they made out multiple times before, their hands wandered and he kissed her senseless once or twice whilst keeping her trapped between his firm body and a wall.

But this is a whole new level. Being in her bed, feeling his weight on top of hers, having his teeth play with her ear lobe. She tugged uselessly at the collar of his outfit, knowing better than anyone else that it would not come off until the transformation wore off. Does she want him like that? Shirtless? Pantless? Does she want the both of them naked taking their relationship to the next step? A naked Chat Noir meant revealing his identities and she does not want that – but now they are far too involved with each other, his duty and her personal life have already mixed together.

Will it hurt to show him who she is and have him show her who the one that helps her fight Hawkmoth is?

Chat makes her thoughts dissipate when his mouth finds hers and she finally moves to hold his face between her trembling palms. His tongue sweeps out and meets with hers, she places wet open-mouthed kisses on his throat, pulls his hair, his fingers dip into the curve of her hips and she is aching for him in a way she cannot describe. His kisses trail fire in her skin and her insides are twisting in a pleasant way, and Chat moves up higher, his lips fiercer now and Marinette wonders for an instant if it will leave a mark. Her arms weave around him, hands gripping at his shoulder blades, and she bends her knees so she can –

“Ah!”

They freeze when their hips come into contact, faces just a breath away. Marinette can feel something hard against her inner thigh and her face flushes red, and so does his. Chat holds still for a moment, trying to collect himself and calm his breathing, and once he pulls his wits together, he moves up and away to sit back on his heels, watching her with an unreadable expression and indecipherable eyes. She holds his gaze at a loss of what to do, closing her legs slowly until they touch as she grows more self-conscious with each second that ticks by, and rises to a sitting position. She does not know what to say to break the growing silence, her ears are buzzing and her heart is threatening to leap out of her chest.

He is the one to speak first, voice low in a tone that sends shivers down her spine. “Do I look as ravishing as you do now?” His hair is a mess, messier than usual, as if a tornado had played with his golden locks, his face is incredibly flushed, his lips are so, so red, and his green gaze is filled with desire.

Her lungs seem to be working double-time, pumping oxygen into her brain so she can think through the haze. “Yes,” despite all the air she is taking in, the word still comes out as breathless whisper, “Yes, you do.”

His eyes light up then and he leaps forward to press one last kiss on her swollen lips, forcing her back until she has to use her elbows to support herself. “Black is definitely your color.” Her breath catches in her throat when one of his claws trace her jawline. “It looks meow-nificent on you.”

The air comes rushing out of her lips in an exasperated huff and she tries to hit him with her pillow, but he has already leapt out the open trap door above her bed. “Insufferable, ridiculous cat!”

 


	4. iv: kittens

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am slightly distressed today, but I'm here hoping this can cheer someone up if they're in need. Tomorrow's prompt is done and I'm ready to work on the sixth.
> 
> As usual, thank you all for reading! I'll make sure to reply to all your comments once I'm feeling better, and apologize for all mistakes done so far. Lately I don't have the time to read what I write.

* * *

**iv: kittens**

* * *

 

The sky is getting greyer and greyer with each day that passes and winter draws near. Marinette cannot find it in herself to like the season; it makes it hard to get out of bed, she does not enjoy wearing layers of clothing and she always catches a cold or the flu - she has to admit that it is during winter that the most beautiful clothes are on display, though. It is easy to find her huddled by the lit ovens of the bakery when she returns from the streets, arms around her own shoulders and teeth chattering as she complains about the temperature.

So imagine her parents’ surprise when they once found her there, in her usual spot in the corner of the kitchen, with four kittens sitting on her lap.

Now, imagine Chat’s surprise when he enters her bedroom one night and finds her sitting cross-legged on her lounge with the little furry things snuggled together on her warm blankets.

“What did I miss?” His tone is hesitant, but his grin is wide as he regards the kitties.

Marinette shrugs her shoulders and reaches out to pet the one with the orange coat. “I found them in a box on the streets. Couldn’t leave them there with this weather.”

“You are a precious being, my Princess.” He says warmly and she scoffs lightly in response, smiling at the kitten as it stretches its paws under her working fingers. “What are you going to do with them?”

“I’m not sure.” There is a frown on her lips and Chat feels like kissing it away. “I can only keep one of them.”

He glances at the cats again. From far away, they look like an indistinguishable mass of colorful fur with the way they stay close to warm up each other. There is the one she is scratching with bright ginger fur and darker streaks, and a pink little nose that is bumping into her fingers. The other has grey tail and back, as well as the upper half of its head, and the rest is white. Its fur looks soft and extremely fluffy. The third one is the only one he knows by name: it is a Siamese cat, with dark tail, paws, ears and the area around its snout; the fur is much shorter than the one with grey spots.

Now the last one brings a wide grin to his face. The cat is black, there is a tuff of white fur on its chest and one of the front paws is white as well. The little creature opens its eyes and look up at him; the eyes are of a golden orange, very beautiful. Too bad it is not green eyed, Chat thinks as he picks that one particular kitten in his hands and hears Marinette snort at his decision.

“Why don’t you offer them to your friends? Or donate them?”

“I thought of that. Alya is willing to accept one, any one of them.”

He hums thoughtfully, scratching underneath his chin with a claw. “Do I get to pick which one gets to stay and which one goes?” Marinette shrugs and accents with her head once as she moves her hands underneath the blanket to pick it up with the three kitties still on top. “Well then, the black one stays.”

Another snort from her moving form, “Why am I not surprised?”

Chat brushes her comment off and stands with her. “Alya gets the one with orange fur.”

“She would like that one,” she muses and places the blanket on the ground by a plate of bread softened in milk, and the little things immediately start moving once they smell it.

“Nino can have the grey and white one.”

“And Adrien will get the Siamese?” The black cat is placed down on the ground and it walks towards the food on its wobbly legs. “A fancy looking cat for a rich kid? I should have looked harder for a Persian cat.”

His laugh is humorless and he pulls her body towards his, trapping her firmly in place with his arms. “What do you say that we cuddle together for warmth like the cats were doing just now?”

His lips land on the curve of her jawline and she bites down a pleasured sigh. “Just cuddle?”

“Maybe do something more.” Marinette sees his smirk for only a split second before he is moving the both of them across the room and up the stairs to the loft of her bed, crashing down onto mattress as she lets out a yelp of surprise, followed by laughter.

Chat moves around so they are at eye level and places kisses on her cheek, and Marinette moves slowly, still caught in his hold, humming low in her throat as she turns to face him on the bed. She ducks her head under his chin and wraps her arms around his torso. She makes a noise of approval, nose burying into the side of his neck to take in that familiar scent of name brand perfume, leather and, a rare few times, a little bit of sweat. She never thought she would enjoy the smell of sweat, but Chat has his of making everything feel, look and smell good on him. Marinette inches closer, tangling their legs together, and sighs blissfully when he starts running his fingers through her freshly washed, but already dry hair.

Her locks smell of lavender, he notices with a sniff, lavender and vanilla, and they are soft – he bets they are, for he cannot feel it with his bare hands. He glares momentarily at the black gloves with clawed tips and resumes playing with the dark strands, earning a pleased hum in return. Chat considers more often than not telling her about himself, so much that Plagg often falls asleep or zones out while he is voicing his concerns regarding a possible reveal. What were the odds that she would turn tail and flee, or turn him down? They are dating, and though they never voiced it aloud, it is clear that she likes him more than just as a friend, and Marinette seems to adore his true – other? – self either, so really, there is no downside to this.

He glances at the ring around his finger, at the paw glowing in bright green, like a text marker, and wonders if she wonders too. Finding the time to sneak away as Chat Noir can be difficult, if he could just come out as one of her classmates and friends, meeting with her would be much easier. As easy as Gabriel Agreste would allow it, but still. Easier. Sometimes he likes to imagine how it would be if they were dating officially, both inside and outside their costumes. Marinette would get to meet his father and he was sure they would get along well thanks to their common interest in fashion. She would not be able to crack his shell or make him less distant, but he would approve of her, or so Chat likes to think.

On the lower level, the kittens start meowing, asking for attention. They take unsure steps around the room as they search for their rescuer, the noises getting louder the more desperate they become. Chat chuckles softly, fingers still playing with the hair on the back of her head. “It seems like our kids are calling for their mom.” He waits for a punch or a jab on the ribs, or maybe just an annoyed retort from her, but he gets none of that. He feels compelled to look down at her and finds her eyes closed, long eyelashes resting on top of her cheeks.

Her breathing is slow and her lips are parted – she has fallen asleep.

Chat cannot help but gaze lovingly at her, and brushes her fringe away to place a kiss on her forehead before trying to detangle himself from her arms and legs. All that Marinette does with all his shifting is moan and hug her cat pillow instead of his body, rubbing her cheek on its soft material and letting out a sigh. He moves down the stairs to comfort the crying kitties, and they come running and tripping to meow at his feet. He crouches low, pets every single one of them and takes them back to the blanket she placed by the food and water, telling them in a quiet voice that it was bedtime.

When Marinette wakes up in the next morning, the baby cats are sleeping soundly, and the smell of Chat’s perfume lingers in her sheets.


	5. v. trust me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly, I want to thank everyone that sent me kind words yesterday! They really cheered me up and made me feel better. You're all so lovely, thank you for the support xx
> 
> Now, as soon as I post this, I'll be replying to all comments I got lately. I was also asked for sin pt. 2, but I don't know how to sin without raising the rating to M. Softcore sin is to come, then.
> 
> And here you see me lying on the floor wishing Chat was my bf. See ya

* * *

**v. trust me**

* * *

 

It is snowing already, and Marinette knows that there are other places in the world that get more than just a few inches of snow every winter, but still... It is snowing.

And Marinette does not like the cold.

She has a scarf up to her nose and wears the warmest coat she could find in her wardrobe, her hair is loose and she found an old beanie with – surprise – cat ears from when she was younger to keep her own very human ears warm, but the wind against her face is anything but pleasant. Chat leaps from roof to roof with her on his back and he claims not to be bothered by the temperature _at all_ , but she doubts it. The skin of her lips feels like its breaking apart thanks to the cold weather, so she buries her face on the back of his neck and grins at the yelp he lets out when her cold nose touch his skin.

Wherever he is taking her right now, she muses, has to be worth leaving her comfortable bed. For the first time in forever, Marinette left her home without her red Kwami; Tikki was just as reluctant to leave as her mistress, and so Marinette decided to let her sleep. She doubted an akuma would attack in a night like this – or any time at all during winter. Besides, someone had to watch after Noire.

Chat picked the name for her female cat himself, pronouncing it with a wide grin that rivaled one of a child who has just learned how to spell their own name. She was not surprised, and while the name was as cliché as naming a white cat Snow, she accepted. Noire was still not fully grown yet, but could already climb up the steps to the loft, and she would sleep by her feet, or curled by her waist, or in the middle of the bed, leaving Marinette much too close to the wall. Noire also seemed to like Chat more, much to her owner’s chagrin, probably because the later could meow like a real feline would – and could play exactly as one as well.

Her boyfriend – boyfriend? They never called each other as such before – tells her to hold on tight as they near the Eiffel Tower. Her grip around him can be suffocating, yet she keeps her eyes wide open as he nimbly moves upwards towards the top, catching blurred glimpses of the city she grew up in. The temperature seems to drop the higher they get, and the winds are harsher too. She has to grind her teeth together to keep them from chattering and wishes her gloves were thick enough to keep her hands warm.

They stop at the very tip of the tower and Chat crouches down, moving her to the front of his body, arms wrapped tightly around her shivering form. Despite the fact that she wants to curse him for whisking her away from her many blankets, Marinette has to admit that the view is breathtaking. She has seen Paris from this height many times before, but seeing it now covered in snow, with all the lights so bright and his arms around her makes it more special. She does not stop for one second to ponder how he can balance the both of them without leaning sideways once, or how his legs might be screaming in pain when she loses track of time. Marinette just stares at the city, mouth agape, unaware of his gaze so focused on her face.

Chat nuzzles her behind the ear, causing her to shiver, and whispers in a loving tone. “Happy eight month anniversary.” This is his gift to her, and all she had offered earlier in the evening was eclairs that did not turn out to be as tasty as her father’s.

Marinette melts into his embrace, head falling back to rest on his shoulder, blue eyes meeting his striking green ones. “Thank you.” One of her hands reach up to caress his cheek and he leans into her touch. “Happy eight month anniversary.”

He wants to kiss her so badly and it is easy to see it written across his features, but given their position it is best not to, so they settle for watching the scenery. They talk about whatever comes to mind, laugh at one thing or another and grow silent again. His nose is hidden in her scarf and he takes in her scent; this time she smells of apple blossoms, a perfume he recognizes well because he was the one to present it to her. Her flowing hair brushes his cheekbones and he finds himself too captivated by her. Chat is glad that they turned out to be great friends after a rocky start, and he is even gladder that they are together now, even though she does not realize it.

His hand finds hers and the entwine their fingers, each one looking at something different. “My Princess.”

“Yes, Chat?”

“No,” she says with a slight shake of his head. “My Princess.”

She laughs, her pink painted lips stretch into a wide grin and her ribcage shakes. “Yes, Chat.” Marinette tilts her head to face him and their noses almost touch. “Your princess.”

He smiles, eyes sliding closed, and his heart feels like it is going to burst. “My Princess, may I surprise you with something?”

“Don’t you always surprise me?”

Chat nods. It is true; he is always giving her gifts whenever an opportunity pops up. “It’s different this time.” She seems to ponder his words, lips twisting as she thinks it through, and he waits quietly until his agitation starts to show. “Do you trust me?”

Her face goes blank and she ceases breathing for a second. He can read it in her face, _what the hell kind of question is this??,_ but keeps quiet as her eyes slowly slide back to meet with his. “Well,” Marinette starts, “I feel like you’re asking me if I need to breathe to live.”

He kisses the corner of her lips, the closer he can get to a real kiss for now. “You’ll like it.” She makes a disbelieving noise, but smiles anyway and voices that she is too cold to remain in that spot for much longer.

The trip down the Eiffel Tower is slow and cautious, though Chat says he wants to go faster so she can reunite with her bed sooner. He makes up for it when they reach the ground, pulling out his baton and sending them to the nearest rooftop as he breaks into yet another run. Marinette’s breath fans his ears, warming them up from the cold, and his entire body seems to light up on fire. The exertion from running is nothing compared to how he feels when she is this close and accidentally does something that he finds pleasing, and it is not his rapidly moving legs that make the first traces of sweat appear by his hairline. She huffs against the shell of his ear when he lands awkwardly on another house and Chat keeps on running so he will not stop to do something else.

They reach her balcony, her plants are leafless and the ground is covered in white. Chat helps her down the trap door and sticks only his upper body into her room, looking at her with a foolish grin on his face. Marinette finally kisses him, it is slow and sweet and different for he is hanging upside down, and he finds out that he likes it very, very much.

“Go to bed, my Princess.” She pulls away with a smile that is almost timid and her cheeks are flushed from the cold – or from embarrassment. “I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

Chat blows her a kiss and closes the trap door, and stands on the metal railing for a brief moment. He can hear her talking, and her voice is followed by the meow of Noire. His ears flicker lightly when a third, smaller voice joins the conversation, but he brushes it away as his imagination and leaps towards his home where his own cat, the Siamese one, waits for him.


	6. vi: don't touch her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will let you know that akumas, or villains for that matter, and action sequences aren't really my forte. Maybe this doesn't even fit the prompt, but it fits the story, so here we go. The akuma, just so you know, sounded so much cooler in my head; too back I suck at describing chaos.
> 
> Also, camembert isn't even stinky??? At all??? Adrien just doesn't know how to appreciate a good cheese when he sees one

* * *

**vi: don't touch her**

* * *

The cold finally seems to be getting to Chat Noir. He shows up that night wearing a coat over his suit and has a blanket folded under his arm. Marinette waits for him in the park, sitting on the edge of the fountain, with her arms tightly wrapped around herself and two pairs of socks on each feet. He sits by her side and drapes the heavy fabric around her shoulders, and she waits no time to scoot closer to him and murmurs when she hides her face in his neck.

Chat decides that he likes the cold, even more now than before. With the low temperature, it is more common to have her seek him for warmth and they spend most of their time touching each other in some way. He loves it when they kiss so hard he feels dizzy, but he cherishes these moments when the both of them just sit and be together, and talk about anything that come to mind without restraints. He laces their fingers together as she tells him of her day, and he wonders for a moment if she would act like this around Adrien.

He has been considering telling her the truth ever since that night on the Eiffel Tower and the more he thinks of it, the more he wants to get it done with. He gets easily fidgety and Plagg finds it too entertaining to say anything that will make him ever regret revealing himself to her in the future. Sometimes he feels like a character in a tv show when he is pacing around his bedroom and the black Kwami is laughing with stinky camembert stuck in his mouth. Chat thought of saying “want to meet my family?” or “I want to meet yours”, but he gets flustered after he realizes just exactly what he is thinking and finds himself to be too lame to tell her the truth.

Marinette is talking about her best friend Alya and how she seems to be developing a crush on their classmate Nino. She mentions the drawing Nathanael gave her, a pretty watercolor painting of colorful flowers, and she misses how his grip gets a little tighter around her waist. She laughs as she retells a joke she heard that day and does not notice that he barely smiles, his gaze too focused on her and his thoughts too scattered around his brain.

Marinette is wonderful, he does not know exactly how they even started dating, but he knows he does not want to hide anymore. That is all he knows.

Chat cuts her short when he grips both of her hands, his grin is hesitant and she picks up on it instantly. “What’s wrong, kitty?”

He swallows; he never planned exactly what to say. “I’ve been thinking... Uh...” Her eyes crinkle and her shoulders start shaking in silent laughter when he starts scratching the back of his head and looking around as if the trees could help him. “Uh...”

She kisses him, her fingers getting a little tighter around his own. Her lips are soft and, many times, he wishes he could feel their softness with the tips of his ungloved digits. He is staring at her closed eyes and notices the slight curve that her mouth has. She is smiling and his heart soars and clenches, and he finally returns the kiss a little more fiercely.

“Kitty, kitty,” she starts, pecking his flushed cheek right afterwards. “You know you can say whatever is in your mind.”

He feels more hopeful and confident, however small that change is, and brings her hands to his chest. “My Princess,” she nods at the nickname, expectant blue eyes boring into his, “would you like to see your surprise now?”

She is taken aback, but nods and lets him drop her hands to her lap. Chat leaps out his seat and trips to stand some feet before her, legs parted and arms open wide. Marinette smiles at his visible anxiousness and claps softly at his stance, commenting that his pose reminds her of a magician. “Well then, Princess, don’t blink or you might miss it.” She makes an amazed sound, covering her open mouth with her hand and urges him to do his magic.

Chat breathes in deeply, parts his lips and then –

Turns his head around abruptly, ears flicking when he hears a strange noise coming from his left.

“What’s wrong?” She wants to ask, but the words die in her throat when the ground starts shaking hard.

When the sudden trembling vanishes, Marinette stands and walks hurriedly in his direction, Chat matching her pace, but another tremor makes them lose their footing and they stumble to the ground. Everything goes quiet and still, and these rapid changes makes the both of them feel lost, Chat glances around frantically looking for the source of the problem. “An akuma,” he whispers and Marinette’s eyes open wide as she stares unseeingly at the ground beneath her palms.

An akuma and Chat will not let her out of his sight so she can transform.

It starts again and the quaking is not as harsh as the last one, but they notice that the noise is getting louder. With his eyes opening wide in horror, he sees that a crack is opening on the ground, crawling its way towards her, and Marinette scrambles out of the way before he can even scream a warning. “Chat!”

“I need to get you out of here!” The crack splits and divides the concrete, forcing them backwards and more distant to each other. He feels helpless as the ground keeps on cracking beneath them, creating deep gaps in the park, and Marinette is left to run out of the way while he can simply jump across the pits.

He tries to reach her, but with every step, a new hole appears and the ground starts getting uneven. Some blocks of concrete are higher than others and the fountain crumbles before his eyes, laughter echoes in his ears and the akuma is just a faceless shadow to him as worry and anger start consuming his mind.

“You!” His yell brings Marinette to a halt and he changes direction, taking out his baton so he can easily avoid the columns and holes that appear on his way. “Don’t you dare... Don’t you dare touch her!” The akumatized person laughs again, their voice ill and distorted, and evades every single swipe of his weapon as they dance away from his reach, creating obstacles between their bodies. “Don’t you dare hurt her!”

Marinette feels suffocated as she watches from the sidelines, trapped on a piece of pavement surrounded by deep cracks. Chat is moving with so much rage that he is just a black blur to her eyes, and the akuma is calmly stepping backwards, a mocking grin on their lips and their moving hands doing more and more damage to the area around them. The hero extends his baton and runs to vault himself from one side of the hole to the other, and the person chuckles, sending a rock flying towards his baton, knocking it backwards and making him lose his balance, and another one that sends the boy gliding backwards, his body hitting a decorative statue with a sickening slap.

Her voice reaches a desperate pitch as she screams out, “Tikki! Transform me!”


	7. vii: purring

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are. I spent the day listening to ml fanmixes and trying to work on my uni project. 
> 
> Read more notes at the end, if you will

* * *

**vii: purring**

* * *

There is a loud buzz in his ears, the back of his head aches so badly and Chat can make little sense out of the situation. He remembers a rock flying in his direction, his back hitting something hard at incredible speed, and Marinette’s voice screaming out something he knows all too well.

His head rolls to the side, he feels completely weightless and limp, and where once stood Marinette, now stands Ladybug.

She is by his side in seconds, the hands he has known so well belong to the same girl he kisses nearly every night. He flushes despite the fact that he does not fully comprehend it yet, and his vision is a blur once he is standing on both feet. She says something he does not understand well and he slurs out that she should go on ahead while he pulls himself back together. Her blue eyes seem reluctant and her lips presses together in a thin line that he is now used in seeing when she is trying to decide what to do, but eventually she turns and runs towards the akuma, ground shaking beneath them again.

Chat tries not to think, really, he tries hard not to, and somehow he succeeds. He moves as if in a daze, though, his movements do not feel or seem natural, yet they work together without issues. Now that he is considerably calmer, it is easier to spot openings to attack, and they soon realize where the akuma is. Ladybug – no, Marinette – comes up with a plan and they manage to snatch away the necklace around the person’s neck. She breaks it under her heel, purifies the butterfly and sends out her ladybugs to undo the mess, closing holes and cracks and mending the pavement back together.

They turn to face each other just as the middle aged woman comes back to her senses, but instead of fist bumping and congratulating each other, they just stare. His fists are clenched and her expression is guarded. They wait for one of them to break the silence as the victim walks away rubbing her head in confusion.

“Plagg,” he eventually says simply in a quiet voice and the transformation wears off, black costume melting away from his body.

She seems to have stopped breathing and regards him with the same unreadable eyes. Adrien has stopped as well, waiting for something, anything, and he nearly misses the nod of her head before she turns around and runs towards her home.

He sits on the snow and fishes a piece of cheese from out of the inner pocket of his coat, passes it to Plagg in silence and lets his clothes soak as he waits for his heartbeat to return to its regular pace. It could have been minutes, or even hours, but once he feels like his hands are not shaking anymore, he stands and walks to the bakery, letting his Kwami talk to himself as he thinks up his next moves.

Adrien becomes Chat Noir and he climbs up to the balcony, half expecting to see the trap door closed and relief washes over him when it is open. He enters with caution, dropping silently on her bed and looks around the room, finding her sitting on her lounge with Noire on her lap, maskless. Moving down the stairs, he stands in the center of the lower level and her eyes move up to meet with his. There is silence, Noire jumps from her seat and saunters closer to him, rubbing herself on his legs and purring merrily, asking for attention. Chat lowers himself to a crouch, never breaking eye contact, lets his claws graze the back of her head, and he cannot hide the grin that spreads across his face when the purrs get louder.

Marinette keeps her face void of emotion for a few more seconds, but she soon is smiling too. “Tikki, give us some minutes, please.”

“Of course, Marinette!” The Kwami flies from her hiding spot behind the screen of her computer and stops before his nose. “Nice to finally meet you!” And she disappears away to the balcony in a blur.

She is quiet again and relaxes against her pillows, patting the spot to her right. “Come here, kitty.” Seconds pass, and she tilts her head in his direction. “I’m talking about you.”

Chat is beside her in a moment and stops her from moving to give him some space on the lounge. “I have a better idea, Princess.” She is in his arms in the next second and lets out a startled gasp, and in the following, they are both lying on her bed, and she is laughing, hair sprawled on her pillows as he once again settles above her, elbows supporting his weight and he grins down at her. “So...” He starts, her laughter dies down, but the smile is still present. “That was my surprise.”

“An akumatized person that tried to kill me while I was defenseless?”

“No, silly Princess.” She makes a face at his words and he pecks the tip of her nose. “I’m talking about who I am behind this mask.”

“So the bad photoshop Alya did that one time was right.”

“What?”

“Nothing,” she returns the kiss and plays with the bell at the base of his throat. “So I guess we both know now...”

“Yeah...” His eyes are on her lips and she purposefully bites down on them, her fingers tracing the collar of his suit.

“Do you wanna talk about it now?”

“Not really...”

She laughs breathlessly, “Me neither,” and pulls him down to a kiss.

The kiss, as cliché as it sounds in his head, feels like his first. Their first. Their first kiss as Marinette and Chat Noir, as Ladybug and Chat Noir, as Ladybug and Adrien, and as Marinette and Adrien. He feels a weight fall off his shoulders as his lips move against hers, so sweet and tender and hypnotizing, her hands cupping his face and body beneath his. She tilts his head, places kisses along his jaw, bites his earlobe and he shivers deliciously under her palms as she starts moving them down his sides.

Marinette tugs at the belt around his hips and whines against his lips, but he tells her to be patient as he moves to lavish her neck with nips and kisses. Her hands roam around his back, and he grips her hips instead, moving up and closer, successfully recreating the position they were in the last time they made out on her bed. Her mouth opens with a moan and he captures the sound with his, tongue sweeping out to meet with hers, her fingers tangle in his hair, and she moves under him, growing impatient.

His claws lift the end of her shirt and trace lines and circles on the skin of her stomach. She laughs against his mouth and tries to slap his hands away, only to have him grab her wrists and pin them beside her head. “Behave, Princess,” he says in a teasing warning tone, and Marinette leans forward, her lips landing on the skin just above his bell and she sucks on his pulse, earning a noise from him in return.

She stops her ministrations and snickers. “Adrien Agreste purring? Never thought I’d see it in this lifetime.” This time, he is the one who whines, but the sounds soon turn into moans as Marinette places her mouth on that spot once again. Shamefully, he admits that his moans do sound like purrs. It is saddening to him, but she finds it to be very amusing. “Come on, kitty.” She lies back down on her bed, chest heaving and lips red. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

His eyes roll to the back of his skull when she thrusts her hips up once, and the grip he has around her wrists grow tighter. “Fuck, Princess.”

“Yeah,” she says in a tone that he cannot quite describe, “You do that to me. Now.”

Caught out of the blue by her words, he stutters and nearly yells out his command. “P-Plagg!”

In a second, he is in his civilian clothes, his hair is neatly combed, and the black Kwami is already flying out the trap door above them. “You two disgust me.”

They laugh, if only for a handful of seconds, because then Marinette is already tugging off his winter coat and his hands move her shirt up her torso.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes. I had to include a silly reveal or else I wouldn't be fully satisfied. However, I do hope you are satisfied with this story! 
> 
> So, Lady GryphonInia, I added some more softcore sin as you asked. I could go full sin and give this fanfic one last chapter, but for that I'd need to raise the rating and I wouldn't post it tomorrow (seeing as I haven't written it yet). If you guys want, I can do that, though it'd be more adrinette than marichat but, still
> 
> sin.
> 
> Thank you all for reading!


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